The Lake House Pt. 02 - Kelly

You would think I would be accustomed to being stared at, a freak of nature, a man in a woman's body, but sadly this isn't the case. I am very self conscious of my appearance around others, especially those I don't know. Perhaps it would be easier to simply pass myself off as a woman all the time, but that deep self-loathing that I lived with for most of my life would have nothing to do with that.

I am not gay, I am not feminine, despite my physical appearance.

I'm a man, and I will always present myself as a man.

Then I had another thought.

Maybe she really is a bull dyke and was checking me out.

"So, uh. Thanks." I said, growing more uncomfortable by the moment. "Is your dad around? I wanted to thank him too."

"Gramps went to town, won't be back for a couple of days." Kelly said, finally looking away, picking up another log to split.

She swung, the axe splitting the log effortlessly.

Damn, she's strong!

She also didn't shave her armpits, which came as a surprise.

"Mice nested in the solar inverter box last fall, had most everything chewed up before the storm." She explained unnecessarily, stooping to pick up another log. "Shorted out the whole system. Lucky it didn't catch fire. It's why the radio battery died so quickly on you."

"Oh." Was all I could think to say.

"Well?" Kelly said.

"Well, what?" I replied, pulling my gaze away from her wonderful but small tits to her face.

Does she know how sexy she looks? Or did she purposefully choose to look this way for the video? Viewers would be rewarded with a glimpse of her breasts, which was sure to garner subscribers, because guys liked tits, no matter the size.

Guys like me.

She held out the axe meaningfully. "You gonna help or not?"

"Sorry, what?" I stammered, hoping my shorts didn't tent from my sudden arousal.

"You said you came to set things right. At least you can replace the wood you used." She said, maintaining eye contact. She was amused, but by what, I couldn't tell.

"Oh yeah, sorry." I said coming back to my senses. Did she see me staring at her tits?

I took the axe, almost dropping it. It was heavier than I thought, as I looked it over. The handle was longer than the axe my dad had, and the blade part was a hell of a lot thicker and heavy as hell. Not sharp at all. How does she swing this thing so effortlessly?

"You don't know how, do you?" She said, her amused expression growing. She clucked her tongue in disapproval, took the axe back. "I guess you can stack wood."

"You can show me." I challenged, angered by the affront to my manhood. "I can learn."

She looked me up and down again. "I bet."

The way she gave me a dismissive look really struck a nerve. I snatched the axe back. "I can do this. Just show me how to use this axe."

She grinned, nodded to herself. "Should have gotten here twenty minute ago, as I went over this for the video. Okay. First off it's not an axe, it's a maul. You use an axe to chop wood. Use a maul to split wood. May I?" She motioned to the heavy tool. I handed the maul back to her. She lifted it effortlessly. "The head is heavy so when you swing, it's mass gives it more force to split with the grain. It's dull so the blade isn't forcing its way in, but letting the wood split along the grain. It's why split firewood is never perfectly straight." She went over the various parts of the maul. "The handle is longer than an axe so you can get more momentum. Got it?"

"Not an axe, but a maul. Right." I nodded.

"Right handed? Cool. So am I. Won't really matter as you'll be switching hands frequently. Okay. Right hand here. Left hand goes here. When you swing, you're going to let your hand slip down the shaft to your other hand. Like this, really just guiding it where you want it to go at that point. Oh, you have to have the position right, so you don't accidentally shatter your leg when the maul bounces off a log, and trust me, it happens. Here, stand like I am. Good. When you swing, most of the work is in bringing the maul up, let centrifugal force do most of the work, then power it down like so."

She demonstrated, the maul crashing through the log easily, both halves flying from the platform.

"Now you try it." She commanded, handing the maul back to me and stepped back.

I struggled to copy the pose she used.

I heard a derisive snort, and then suddenly found her grabbing my arm from beside me. Her touch sent a wave of pleasure through me. I must have gasped because she paused for the briefest of moments.

"Hold it here." She instructed, almost a whisper in my ear, her right hand reaching to touch mine, left arm wrapping around my waist, guiding me into position, where I needed to grab the handle and in doing so, leaned into me, pulling our bodies together suggestively.

This was not accidental.

She really was a lesbian, and this was her way of making a overly aggressive pass at me.

Was she seeing if I would move away, checking if I was receptive to her overtures?

I felt her breath on my ear, a soft husky moan. I instinctively turned towards her, our lips only inches apart.

A moment of time seemed to have stopped as I didn't know what to do.

Then I remembered to breathe, inhaling deeply through my nose, and was rewarded with the smell of fresh cut pine, sap and other wood scents, but there was no mistaking something truly fantastic, the odor of a woman, raw, enticing, exotic, but so different than that of my aunt and mom.

I was smelling Kelly.

And I liked what I was smelling.

A lot.

Despite the abuse I had inflicted on it for the past day, my dick stirred in my shorts, pushing against something that wasn't mine.

Kelly's hand.

I froze.

Oh fuck!

The pressure eased as Kelly suddenly stepped back, as if remembering personal space existed. Her expression became unreadable.

She seemed embarrassed.

We stared at each other for a moment.

Kelly recovered first. "Now bring it back like I showed you. Hello? Anyone home?"

"What? Sorry sorry." I stammered, my face undoubtedly red. I was slow to realize I was still holding the maul. "Oh, right."

"Bring it back, yes. Perfect, Now lean into it, keeping your leg back. As you swing, let your left hand glide back and let it guide the maul. There you go. Now try it."

The maul sank a good four inches into the log.

"Now you have to lift the whole thing, log and all, slam it down again." Kelly said, finding her footing again. She spoke confidently once more, the awkwardness behind her. "You'll waste your time trying to free the maul, and the wood won't split properly."

"Heavy." I muttered picking up the whole thing as instructed, and slamming back down. The jarring sensation helped to dissipate the arousal I was just feeling.

"That's why it's important to split it the first swing." Kelly said after I successfully cleaved the log. "Sometimes when it gets stuck I have to use the sledge hammer to drive the maul all the way through. Give it a few months, build up the muscle, and you'll be splitting wood with the best of us."

"Us?"

"Gramps and I." Kelly nodded. "We sell firewood to the tourist cabins. Normally I would use the log splitter over there, but I can't get it to start, so it's the old fashion way until Gramps gets back to fix it. Splitting by hand makes for a great work out though. Tell you what, you help me split some wood for the video, and we'll call us even."

"Deal." I said gratefully. "What do you want me to do?"

"Let's teach the flatlanders how to split firewood." Kelly said with a grin, motioning to the maul. "How long can you last?"

I wasn't sure how to take that so I kept my mouth shut, clenching my jaw so I wouldn't say something out of line.

Kelly went to the side, picked up a computer tablet, and checked the video feeds. "I have six cameras out here, covering every angle, so don't pick your nose. And we're recording."

She picked up the same kind of camera I use to record my bike rides, and this she carried with her. "I'll have to get you to sign a release before I can use the video, if that's ok with you."

"That's fine." I agreed.

Kelly smiled brightly, turned to the camera she held. "Today I'm getting help with the firewood from one of my neighbors that lives across the lake, because that's what neighbors do in the boonies." She went on to introduce me, and I shyly nodded, but didn't say anything.

"As this is their first time splitting wood, I can show you what to look out for." Kelly said, then patiently explained what I was doing, the proper technique to use, once again, wrapping her arms around me as she posed me much as she had before, and I had to think about other things, lest my arousal show.

Then she just let the cameras run as she placed log after log on the platform for me to chop. She had me repeat it a number of times, looking for the perfect shot.

It wasn't long before my arms started to feel like lead. That maul was wicked heavy! But I didn't stop, determined to make a good showing of myself. On the last stroke, the maul hit a knot in the log, turned sideways on impact, and I lost my grip and the whole thing bounced, and a split piece of wood flew off, hitting my leg and I went down. I thought I hit myself with the maul, my leg hurt so badly.

Kelly was there instantly, had me sit, and tended to my injury. She knelt in front of me, turning my leg one way then another in an almost motherly fashion. For a moment I thought she was going to kiss my shin. I was offered a great view down her shirt to those wonderful little mounds.

"Nothing serious. Will leave a nasty bruise." She said finally. If she was aware that I was staring, she didn't show it. She turned to one of the nearest cameras, "And that's why safety is important. Remember if you get tired, you're more prone to make a mistake and get injured. We were lucky it was only a minor bruise. Stay hydrated. And that's a wrap."

"You sure?" I said with a grimace. "Hurts like hell."

Kelly nodded, stood up to retrieve her tablet, to make sure she got the recordings she needed. "I can't tell you how many times I banged my shins splitting wood. Hurts like a mother fucker. You learn not to do that. I'll give you credit, you lasted longer than I did the first day. Not bad for a rich kid."

"You know I'm a guy?" I asked as she scrolled through the videos.

"Well, duh." Kelly said with laugh looking up. "I remember you from last summer. Your dad introduced you as his son, remember? I don't think Gramps caught it, but I did. I remember thinking you were absolutely gorgeous, and there was no way you could be a man. No Adam's Apple, pronounced brow ridge, or anything. Not a trans. I'll be honest, you are absolutely beautiful as a woman, but I can see your packing some heat."

I flushed, embarrassed. That would explain why she suddenly backed away when she was showing me how to split wood.

"So I don't scare you?" I asked.

"No more than I scare you." Kelly said. "We have a lot in common. We both appear to be who we are not. Come on inside, let's get some ice on that. We can tell each other war stories over lunch."

Once inside, Kelly had me prop up my injured leg and quickly made an ice compress for it. As I nursed my injured shin, I looked about the cabin as Kelly made sandwiches for the two of us.

The cabin looked way different in the daylight, with all the shutters removed. Not so dark and gloomy. It was warm and inviting. Tastefully decorated, a family summer cabin. Older style, divided rooms, each serving a function; kitchen, dining room, living room. Not at all like the flowing floor plan that had become popular over the past several decades. Probably built in the fifties as most in the area were. With a little remodeling, this could be a beautiful place. I gazed towards the living room, memories of that night returning. I studied the details of the room, matching everything to my memory. The couch that had borne witness receptacle to our love making that night remained exactly as I remembered it, the night I lost my virginity.

How I loved that night, and the memories I still carried with me, rich and vivid as if it happened only last night.

I frowned, looked away in shame.

On one hand, making love to Aunt Asta was the best experience of my life, on the other, it was the worst. She was my Aunt, and incest was just wrong. That night changed me, and not for the better. Now I was fantasizing fucking my mom and dad.

I felt the urge to scream rise within me-

"Mustard?" Kelly interrupted my self loathing. She gave me a curious look as she slathered sandwich spread on bread.

"Spicy mustard?" I asked hopefully, turning my attention to the here and now. Like the cabin, the kitchen remained untouched since the fifties with the overpowering old brown kitchen cabinets and equally out of date, but still serviceable appliances.

"No, sorry." Kelly shook her head. "Just the yellow stuff."

"I'll pass, thank you." I replied.

"Can't stand the stuff myself either, but it's Gramps favorite." Kelly mused.

"How long has your family owned the place?" I asked, eager to make conversation.

Kelly thought for a moment. "Gramps bought the cabin in the late sixties as a summer home. In the eighties, Gramps moved here year round until the cold weather started to take a toll on his bones. So now we winter in Florida."

"And you?" I asked.

"He's the only family I have." Kelly said. "So we kind of watch over each other. He runs the business and I do the back end work."

"Business?" I asked.

"Antiques and stuff." Kelly said, presenting me with a sandwich on plate. "Gramps buys and sells. He used to have an antique store in town, but anymore, we stock up and then haul it all out east in the winter for the shows. Keeps him active, and it's just enough to pay the bills."

"Thank you." I said politely, accepting the sandwich. I was surprised to see it was rather well made, just as if it came from a deli, with thin slices of smoked chicken, swiss cheese, as well as tomatoes and lettuce all on a fresh brioche bun. "And you?"

Kelly grinned. "Professional blogger, Online game reviewer, media influencer, if such a thing truly exists. I blog about life around the lake, and life on the road with Gramps in the winter. I also live stream playing video games for some extra cash. I may not look it, but I used to work IT security at one of the big firms in Seattle."

"What happened?"

"Shit happened." Kelly shrugged, clearly not wanting to talk about it. "I moved out here in the boonies with Gramps, started my blog and videos and never looked back. Now I run his books, maintain inventory, and do the occasional IT work for hire locally. Oh, and I maintain the local node of the lake's WIFI. How's the leg?"

"I've had worse in a bike crash." I replied, passing the ice bag back to Kelly. It ached more than it hurt, and was definitely going to be a bad bruise. At least I could walk on it.

"Bike, like motorcycle?" Kelly asked.

"Mountain bike." I said. "I don't know how to ride a motorcycle." I didn't want to tell her that mom absolutely refused to let me ride motorcycles.

"Too bad." Kelly shook her head. "So what do you do for a living?"

I explained that I worked for my dad's company, but I was attending online school for a degree in computer science, but wasn't really sure that was the direction I wanted to go in.

"Don't." Kelly warned. "The market is saturated with people with degrees in computer science, you need to specialize." She went on to tell me what fields were still hot, and what she thought would be in demand in the future. She was very knowledgeable and kept up to date on all things computer.

After lunch, she offered a beer, and we went to sit on the deck overlooking the lake. "No more shop talk." Kelly said, gazing out over the lake, taking a seat on one of the deck chairs. I chose the porch swing as it was closest to her. We passed the time with small talk, and I found myself liking Kelly a lot. She was bright, witty, with a 'I don't give a fuck' attitude. She told the funniest stories about others confusing her for a man, made all the funnier as I understood what she went through.

Kelly had a profound effect on me. I'd never met anyone that faced the same problems as I do, and I genuinely enjoyed her company. It was refreshing to talk to someone that knew what I was going through. She had been me at one time, and had come to terms with it, found her place in life.

Eventually the conversation shifted to our appearances.

"So when did you know you were different from others?" I asked as we stared at the lake.

"What do you mean different?" Kelly gave me a questioning frown, untying her boots.

"I- um." I was embarrassed.

"I'm fucking with you." Kelly laughed, tossing her boots aside, getting comfortable. "I'm the fine print on the warning label, the reason pharmaceuticals include thirty seconds of legalese after every drug commercial. Dad was getting testosterone treatments because he couldn't keep it up, and mom used to rub him with medicated lotion."

Kelly spoke matter of factly, as if discussing the weather. "It wasn't until mom started to grow a mustache and chest hair she thought to ask the doctor about possible side effects. That's when she learned she was pregnant with me. It was way too late. She absorbed the medication through her hands, and as a result, I was heavily dosed in the womb with testosterone."

"Oh." I said.

Kelly shrugged, leaned back in her seat. "The damage was done. The medical term is virilization through Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia. But to answer your question, it was when puberty hit early that I became different than the other girls. The testosterone made me more muscular, smaller tits, bigger brow ridge, slightly protruding nose, wider jaw, deeper voice, and my clit is larger than most. I have just enough masculine features for others to pause and wonder if I'm a man in drag. How about you?"

"Inherited rare recessive genetic gene." I answered, surprised she would describe her clit. "Was a boy until puberty, then bam, I turn into this."

"Really?" Kelly said, turning to study me. "No offense and I don't mean to insult, but other than your mannerisms, and the way you walk, you have no physical masculine traits, and I'm something of an expert at that. Even your voice is distinctly feminine, best described as silvery. Your accent just makes it that much sexier. If you could sing, I bet you would win that television show as best female vocalist. If we just met I would swear that you are a tomboy, but I would never imagine you really are a man."

"No insult taken." I replied, "But I do have two traits. My cognitive abilities are distinctly male, and I- um, well, I have a dick." I almost couldn't come right out and say I had a cock, but Kelly put me at ease talking candidly. "I have no female organs other than my breasts. I identify as male and I'm not gay."

"That's rough." Kelly nodded in understanding. "Gramps tells me that no matter how bad you think you have it, there is always someone worse. There was a time when I would have sold my soul to the devil to have a body like yours. But once I accepted who I am, I don't feel that way anymore. Like Popeye used to say: 'I am what I am'."

"I haven't reached that point." I said with a frown.

"You will." Kelly said knowingly, "You have to. And when you do, it will be a huge relief. If you don't you'll be a lot worse off in the long run. Trust me on that. Fuck what others think. Want another beer?"

I nodded, and she returned shortly with two more beers, and sat down on the swing beside me.

"So what do you want to do next?" Kelly asked.

"Sex?" I asked before I really thought about it.

Kelly gave me a curious look.

"I meant-" My face turned red hot.